Weather is Changing Clothes

There are moments
In the lifespan
Of an elephant's memory
When romantic rotations
Of the earth allow
Land and sky
To knot legs,
Legs stiff from
Elaborate sessions of
Knotting together
So perfectly that
It seems he is
passing through
A movie set.

My lady
Is made of
Copper and gold.
Her face is
A monastry for
Music to stretch
Arms in and touch
Its own face.
Her elbows scratch
Rocks, they hide
Behind their mothers.
Her waist climbs wind
Lets the earth
Untie its hair.

Street that Chases Its Tail

An empty glass of
water traps wind
brings a storm through
keyholes on the body
goes breathless and
rests on a tongue
till friends visit
in the evening
to watch veins dancing
on their arms
and yawn big Os
so that the magic is lost forever
while 3 A.M. crows
make fun of birds
who sleep next to them.

Morning is a disappointed friend
who never offers you a cigarette.